


Drowning Sorrows

by karrenia_rune



Category: Andromeda
Genre: Gen, Promptfic, community: 100situations
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-08
Updated: 2012-09-08
Packaged: 2017-11-13 18:59:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 581
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/506660
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/karrenia_rune/pseuds/karrenia_rune
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A character study of Telemachus Rhade on Seefra.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Drowning Sorrows

Disclaimer: Andromeda and all of the characters who appear here or are mentioned are not mine, they belong to Tribune Entertainment and Fireworks Productions. Written for the live journal community 100 situations, prompt #42 suffocate, and set during Season 4 of 

Andromeda.

"Drowning Sorrows" by karrenia

The lighting in the bar was dim and the atmosphere was for dingy and smoky and by his standards quite a dive, but it had been a long time since Telemachus Rhade had cared about  
such things. It was not as if there was much of anywhere else to go on Savfera that could compare to a higher quality in the harsh light of daylight. 

In fact he found that he actually preferred being in the dark to being outside. The sun during the day seemed to beat down on the unfortunate heads of the unlucky inhabitants of this  
planet with equal amounts of intensity and regularity.

For the past several weeks of being stranded here with no where else to go and seemingly exhausted all other possible escape routes, he even had begun to understand Harper's more delusional tirades. As the owner of the aforementioned drinking establishment he was in a prime position to be a captive audience of these occassional tirades, and when he had imbibed a sufficient quantity of alcohol; and shared a few tirades of his own.

It made for quite a few entertaining evenings, hell, a good way to spend the early afternoons even, no one ever said that they were better hours during the day in which to get drunk.

The only problem with that logic, to Telemachus Rhade way of thinking, getting drunk for an 0ordinary human being was an entirely different proposition than getting drunk for a Nitzechean. 

Somewhere, in the not be-fogged portion of his brain, he knew that his behavior would be looked down upon by his people. Belief in oneself, family, and one own's indominate and let's face it; ego-centric superority was the end all and be-all of existence.

He still believed in some of those principles, but the problem is that he had spent far too much time among humans, and perhaps that has been both a postive and negative, and it has affected far more than he even he would be willing to admit.

Speaking of which, his commanding officer, Dylan Hunt believed in taking the long odds and in looking for and if necessary digging out the best in the individuals under his command. So when he isn't drinking or being poked and prodded, or lying on the floor of dark empty room, Telemachus sometimes resents Dylan for that annoying characteristic.

"Destiny has a funny way of twisting our lives around,' Telemachus thought to himself. Yes. There is anger, and there is recrimination, and then there is solitude, and then there is just weary resgination."

He waited for a while, stoically ignoring the sparse crowd gathered at the other tables in the bar, holding the glass that held an amber-colored liquid in his left hand, watching the bubbles rise and fall in eddies inside of the glass. He held so that it caught the dim interior lighting, between his thumb and index finger, acknowledging with a barely perceptible nod, Harper's return from the back room and back behind the bar counter.

"You gonna be okay, big guy? Harper asked plunking half a dozen bottles of unopened whiskey down on the counter.

"Not at the moment," Telemachus replied. "But I will be."


End file.
